


The Interview

by BrightestSun



Series: Au Yea August [7]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU Yeah AUgust (Miraculous Ladybug), Chloé's an actress, F/F, Famous, Fluff, Romance, adult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 12:13:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15606027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrightestSun/pseuds/BrightestSun
Summary: Chloé is a famous actress and needs to play a lesbian character in a new movie. She's been assigned to Sabrina, an openly lesbian person, whom Chloé is meant to shadow and learn how to properly portray a lesbian.Sabrina's been a huge fan of Chloé's for years and years. Meeting her first real crush had sounded like an amazing opportunity and super fun, but of course the reality of meeting your heroes rarely goes well.AU Yea August day 7 - Famous





	The Interview

”You don’t  _ look  _ like a dyke Sabrina” Chloé’s accusing tone made me shrink. The academy award winning Chloé Bourgeois was talking to me. She was going to follow me around for days, I knew that actors were rarely as nice in person as they were in the roles they played, but it was dawning on me that the typically typecast ‘princess’ and romantic lead might not fit her persona at all.

I shook the thought away from me, she was just guarded around lesbians, most people are, I was just seeing the worst side of the gorgeous blonde. Besides, it seems like the thing all straight girls feared was that their gay friends were having ‘unsavory’ thoughts about them. Which I’d never done with any of my (very limited) straight friends, but maybe the gorgeous Bourgeois was able to sense my flaring childhood crush on her trying to pound against the corner of my mind with every second I looked at her.

I chuckled a response “well, lesbians look all sorts of ways, not all bald and tattooed”. Stereotypes were strange, I felt strange othering myself from the more stereotypical look, it felt like I was calling out a group of people, many of whom I knew, just by repeating what Chloé might have expected me to look like.

Chloé ran a hand through her hair, looking away from me with a sigh. I wish I knew what was going through her mind, but the scowling look in her eyes whenever we exchanged glances made me think that maybe I was better off not knowing.

“Well… if you all looked like well, dykes, then they wouldn’t have cast me to play one” she mused, inspecting my small apartment with a critical eye.

“I guess that’s true” I forced a smile, the word ‘dyke’ sending a small spike through my heart with every utterance. I wish I could find the words to tell her that.

I picked up my cup and calmed myself with the warming Saffron tea. Hoping desperately that this rocky start was not an indication of a mountain climb of a week.

“So…” Chloé drummed her fingers impatiently against the table, her perfect pink painted nails echoing through the small apartment. “How does being gay feel?”

I could only chuckle, tilting my head to the side, I’d known a version of that question would come up, but the phrasing made me reconsider my answer. “I guess… it feels a lot like being straight I’d assume? The only thing all gay people share is that we are attracted to people of our own gender. I’m guessing I feel the same way a straight girl feels when being attracted to a man, just towards women”

Chloé’s mouth became a thin line “I need to act gay in a believable way. If I just play ‘myself’ then there’s no way I’ll win another Oscar. There has to be more.” She stared holes through me, the silent intensity made my heart sink, I wasn’t sure what I could possibly tell her that would feel good enough for her.

I bit my lip “I guess most or almost all queer people have experienced some kind of fear with coming out. Feeling afraid that the people we love would find out or would turn against us if they knew. I think that fear and discomfort shapes us, that might be one of the reasons we band together. Of course lesbians seek out other lesbians for obvious reasons, but being friends with gay men for example still feels nice, comforting just to know that you’re not alone with your experience.” I sighed, looking down into my tea “might be some kind of coping mechanism, trying to make sense of some of the more problematic parts of our past.”

I wasn’t sure what expression I’d expected from Chloé after that explanation, but her statuesque glare didn’t change at all, was she hoping for something else? It’s not like I could speak for everyone, ugh… why had I decided to try speaking on the gay experience, who did I think I was!?

Chloé interrupted my stream of thoughts with another question. “When did you know?”  

At least this question was specifically about me, hard to throw anyone but myself under the bus on this one. Until I realized that Chloé was going to go back to her studio and maybe make changes to the script of the first big lesbian feature film based on MY experience, what if she did and no one could relate!?

I cleared my throat; I couldn’t do anything but tell the truth “well, I guess I started figuring it out when I was 15 or 16. I’d never had much interest in boys but I thought whatever interest I had must just be what love was you know? But then I started feeling for this girl and it was so overpowering compared to anything else I’d ever experienced. The more I saw her and the more I found myself unable to deny what those feelings where.”

Chloé’s cold steely gaze was finally broken as she began looking enigmatically out of the window, looking like a masterful painting as the afternoon rays bathed her in the last of the yellow light, red lines playing across her making her look positively angelic. I could only gulp, trying not to stare and distracting myself with my tea. I was starting to understand what Alya meant when she jokingly said she felt ‘too gay to function’.

Chloé sipped her tea regally, not looking over at me “and what happened? Did you get together with her?”

I snorted “not at all, my first real crush was on a celebrity” I chuckled “never met her, not until…” I swallowed, ‘until now’ had almost slipped past my lips. Chloé seemed to have lowered her guard a bit with her, she didn’t have to know that my first practice kiss was with one of her posters.

I felt my cheeks brighten as every moment I looked at the perfect woman in front of me felt like reliving a distant memory of awakening. Why had I jumped on this chance? It was torture!

I could see Chloé pondering something; she was tasting her own mouth, grinding her teeth slightly and moving her crossed legs. I allowed the room to be silent as she thought, her looking away from me allowing me to admire her form, I knew I shouldn’t, but I’m only human.

Her expression rarely changed when she wasn’t on camera, I’d noticed this from backstage cameras and pictures. Her smile was so bright and honest on screen that one could be forgiven to think she was legitimately happy, but of course it was only proof of how great of an actress she was. In interviews she always had one of three smiles that I’d noticed through vigorous stalking when I was a diehard teenage fan.

I’d thought one of them was her fake smile back then, thinking I was a genius for being able to tell when the actress was truly happy and when she was just playing for the cameras. I was naïve though; looking at her thoughtful morose expression I came to realize that all three were almost certainly fake.

Chloé was a child star, but she’d done remarkably well compared to someone like Miley Cyrus, Justin Bieber or Britney Spears, the biggest controversy was the reveal that she had a temper, and would occasionally make impossible demands of interns.

Compared to the drugs, self destruction and crime that followed the other child stars, it was easy to put Chloé on a pedestal as one of the most well adjusted ones. It was possible that she was just better at hiding it though.

I remembered the first intern controversy, where Chloé had demanded one girl to get coffee from one end of New York, pick up her Dry Cleaning from another and find a specific handbag using only vague descriptions, all within an hour. The intern had been unable to properly do any of the tasks and Chloé had a serious meltdown, but her career survived that and a few other similar incidents.

I smiled, remembering writing a story in which my self insert was that intern, but I managed to actually pull off the impossible task. Then Chloé revealed that it had all been a test and as a reward I was made her personal assistant/girlfriend.

I poked fun at myself for having written such blatant self indulgent wish fulfillment as a teenager. Then, as I started comparing it to my newest work in progress, I could only sip my tea embarrassed. I’d gotten better at hiding it, but my writing was still the same self indulgent wish fulfillment, I vowed to change my ways. Filing the vow in with my vow for daily gym visits and less sugar. I added an extra spoonful of sinful sweetness to my tea.

I’d almost forgotten I wasn’t alone with my thoughts as Chloé finally spoke again. “Have you ever dated a man?”

I shook my head, sipping my tea and preparing my answer to the always fun ‘how can you know you don’t like men if you haven’t tried’.

“Do you think you could?” she looked at me, scanning me for something more than a simple answer, she really seemed like she was staring into my soul.

I shrugged nervously “I mean, I’m physically capable, but I definitely wouldn’t be happy with it. But women have married for convenience or being traded for land or cows for hundreds of years. I guess I could live miserably, tending to a man’s needs and fighting the urge to kill myself” I smiled at her.

Chloé blinked at me surprised “you’d really want to… you’d really rather-“ she whispered the last word “die…?” she looked at me concerned, worried for me.

I swallowed, remembering that ‘normal’ people probably didn’t joke about suicide the same way my friends and I did. It struck me like a bolt of lightning as I remembered that Chloé’s mother had taken her own life when the actress was still very young.

“No I… I’m sure I’d be fine…” I stuttered, feeling like I’d lit the fuse on a bomb that I had no chance of stopping, how could I be so insensitive!? I tried giving her my most sincere look “I really am fine! I’m actually in a really good place, and thankfully I don’t have to live a lie. Not that I would actually do something like that if I was forced to live in the closet, I’d be sad, but I’d live on strong” I struck my best Rosie the Riveter pose, feeling awkward as Chloé just looked at me judgingly, making me shrink.

She sighed softly and sipped her tea, thankfully seeming to have returned to her cold enigmatic demeanor. We sat in silence for a moment, allowing me to actually vow to take suicide more seriously. Gallows humor was easy to get swept up in, it was something you kind of had to develop when you spend your time with the people who were statistically the likeliest to have tried killing themselves. That didn’t mean it was a joking matter though, quite the opposite.

Chloé seemed to be thinking to herself again, something was definitely bothering her. She uncrossed then crossed her legs, her finger was scratching softly but noticeably at her cup, and her foot kept tapping at the air.

I could only imagine she was judging me, my lame kitty cups, my sparsely decorated apartment. Where was my queer eye for the gay gal? I was hopeless when it came to that kind of stuff. I was hoping she wouldn’t find someone else to shadow, someone who was a better fit for a lesbian character that looked like Chloé. Someone who had better taste, was better at doing her nails, more hard femme and importantly, someone who didn’t make triggering comments.

My shoulders sank while I emptied my cup, filling it for the third time and adding enough sugar that it should legally be sugar with tea rather than the other way around. I could feel myself growing smaller as Chloé seemed to grow more frustrated.

Chloé bit her lip softly “is it different?”

I tilted my head confused.

“Being with a woman, is it much different?”

I wasn’t sure how to begin answering that at all “um… I don’t know, I’ve never tried being with a man, don’t know how different it is exactly.”

Chloé hummed with frustration, a small streak of red color was creeping along her face, was she growing angry?

“What does it feel like? Kissing a woman?” she looked at me as though knowing was the most important thing in her life. I wasn’t sure what answer I could give that would be satisfactory, I grew increasingly certain that I didn’t know what she wanted from me.

“it’s… nice? Um… well, my first kiss felt like I was going to explode. I was so nervous and I was sure it was too good to be true, that someone actually liked me like that, that a beautiful girl could actually be interested in being with me.” I ran a hand through my hair blushing at my soppy story “She took my hand and it took my breath away, it was like everything went sort of quiet, and I could hear and feel my heart beating, not like it does when I’m tired but… I don’t know, just different.”

I closed my eyes thinking back to the moment “I remember my entire body growing tense as she stepped close to me, like I think my toes literally curled up with anticipation. Then when I finally felt her lips against mine, it felt like I could finally breathe again, like all of the tension was released by her kiss. I’d never felt so accepted, warm and in love before.” I let my finger gently touch my bottom lip, curling my toes and remembering the sensation.

I shook my head “I’m sorry I can’t describe it better… it’s kind of hard to put into words” I admitted. I always felt like such a hack when writing kissing scenes, what could be said to describe such an indescribable feeling, when it was derived from the simple act of pressing your lips against someone else’s. The act itself didn’t do itself justice, and no amount of writing could perfectly capture it, at least I couldn’t.

As I opened my eyes I was shocked to find Chloé looking dejectedly down into her teacup. She looked like a single tear would fall from her eye in a perfect cinematic scene, but of course people very rarely actually cried like that.

I hesitated to ask what was wrong, waiting for her to compose herself. Nothing about my story could have saddened her, maybe she got a message while I was zoned out, maybe her boyfriend broke up with her? I shook my head, that was impossible, they’d been together for over 5 years, possibly the only teen drama power-couple to stand the test of time, he wouldn’t break up over text.

I bit my lip as I realized Chloé wasn’t going to snap out of it anytime soon, but if I was gonna ask her if she was alright it would have been better a couple of minutes ago when I first noticed she looked like that. Was it too late for such a simple question? If I kept waiting it would be too late for any questions, we’d just sit here in the red evening sun growing increasingly miserable, Chloé for some unknown reason and me because I stressed the heck out about not knowing.

I took a deep breath “something wrong?” I attempted to give her my best sympathetic smile.

Chloé sighed deeply “even if there was I couldn’t tell you” she scratched at the image of a dopey looking tubby kitty on my mug as though petting it, her morose expression betraying her commonly stoic front. In spite of all the actresses expressions and ‘faces’ I’d experienced through my time as her fan I couldn’t think of a time I’d seen her look more genuine. It seemed that under the masks and makeup was a woman filled with sadness and regret. “Whenever I say something it always ends up online somewhere. You’d just post my feelings for a moment of fame” she sounded so factual, no hint of accusation or anger in her voice, this was simply the fact of her life.

The red light outside began slowly disappearing, the shadows of night slowly sinking over Chloé, covering her sadness the way the mask of her everyday persona soon would again. Somehow I wanted to capture this Chloé, freeze her in this moment of truth and preserve her forever just for me. I shook my head, I wanted to scold myself for being perverse but the infatuation was less perverse and more… something else, definitely creepy though.

I bit my lip, an idea of how to get Chloé to open up to me started to form, but it wasn’t a good plan. In fact it was probably a really, really bad plan. Yet every ounce of my being screamed out that I had to know what was making Chloé feel this way. Every moment they’d spend together had awoken more and more feelings from her teenage years, and as I watched Chloé’s barrier slowly come back up, her sadness being overtaken by her usual fake expression, my heart broke. If there was even a tiny chance of breaking through and helping her, I had to take it.

“Wait here!” I told her, dashing to my bedroom and picking up my secret box, then swiftly returning to the coffee table. I sat down in front of her, feeling the hot sensation of how terrible of an idea this was. Still, I was already taking the lid off my box, hiding from view my unmentionables, the idea of Chloé seeing the volume of my collection was truly horrifying to me. I quickly found what I was seeking, placing it hesitantly on the table.

Chloé looked at it with a bewildered expression. The toy on the table was a vibrating egg in the shape of a bee, Chloé looked up at me, understandably surprised. I started to wonder if she even remembered, if I’d even been right all these years.

“um… why are you showing me this?” she asked hesitantly, understandably a bit creeped out.

“I’m… returning it. It’s yours…” I swallowed, trying to ignore the hundreds of alarm bells screaming inside my head.

“It’s…” Chloé looked at the toy with sudden clarity. “You stole this?” she looked at me surprised.

I bit my lip nodding “I may have been… one of your more problematic fans a couple of years ago. In fact, I might have been the one who broke into your trailer when you shot in Kansas, stole some things…” I closed my eyes, waiting for the outrage, the accusation, the storm of vengeance upon me.

I waited for a small eternity in darkness, opening my eyes only after I started to wonder if she’d stormed out without me noticing. She surprisingly looked at me with an amused, quizzical look.

“Well… I’m glad to know my lost bee was at the least in the hands of one of my cuter fans but… why are you telling me this?” she snickered.

I wasn’t sure if she was making fun of me, but I could hardly get myself to care after she’d called me cute. I had to focus my mind to stop the flood of images of what I wanted to do with the toy and the woman in front of me.

I smiled at her sheepishly “two reasons, firstly to prove that I can keep a secret, I never even tried telling anyone about any of the things I found. The alchohol or the drugs or the toy…”

Chloé crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat, she seemed increasingly amused by the confession. “and secondly?” she asked, her eyes drilling into me like fire pokers.

“well… secondly…” I scratched at the back of my head “it wouldn’t be too hard to prove that it was me who did this, not when you knew what to look for. If you wanted you could use this to get me in serious trouble”

Chloé looked surprised and confused “so… you showed me this so I’d… get you thrown in jail?” she raised an eyebrow at me.

I snickered “course not, though Netflix tells me prison’s a great place to pick up chicks” I smiled, then returned to a more serious expression “no… what I mean to say is that I won’t spread around anything you say, I’d never share your secrets, and even if I wanted to, you have dirt on me so I can’t well just share your secrets out of fear that you’ll spread mine.”

Chloé blinked at me, giving me a confounded look. Then she snickered, her snicker turning into laughter. I marveled as she snorted from laughter, it was conventionally unattractive and uncute, but it was a part of her actual laughter. I felt as though the snorting fired an arrow through my heart as I realized that I was probably one of the only people in the world who had heard genuine ‘ugly’, beautiful laughter from the world famous starlet. I could go to jail happy now, though honestly I’d probably get a fine instead of actual jail-time, I’d been underage at the time.

Chloé laughter died down quickly, I cursed myself for not having found a way to record the perfect imperfection. She smiled at me with the most beautiful smile I’d seen from her, a real smile. She got up and crossed around the small table, sitting next to me in my sofa. I gulped, her arm was touching mine. I almost chuckled, thinking about the effect the woman had on me that her arm against mine felt like foreplay.

Chloé sighed as she looked at me “I’ve never liked Trevor”. I puzzled, her boyfriend?

“Then um… why stay with him?”

“I didn’t like any guy more, I thought that was what loving someone was, until recently” she smiled at me, melting my thoughts.

“oh…?” I wasn’t sure how to react, I was going to combust if she didn’t let me get some distance from her already.

Chloé chuckled softly “you’re kind of dense” she teased.

I smiled nervously “so I’m told” I joked.

Chloé shook her head resignedly. She placed her soft silky smooth fingers over my sweaty, clammy hand. I swallowed, drowning in her deep blue eyes. I lost the ability to breathe, to think, I noticed she was blushing.

I can’t describe the first kiss she gave me, I can’t even begin to try. But her second was the second most wonderful experience of my life.

  
  



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